


Xmas Minific series 2013

by TheCrazyGeek



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Filthy, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, xmas 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrazyGeek/pseuds/TheCrazyGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of 8 short pieces, one for each pairing, for the various 'shippers in the Thick of It fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Malcolm and Nicola

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr

“No fuckin' way, I'd sooner stick my fucking dick into a combine harvester”

“So. You are likening my kids to genital torture? That's really charming”

 

Malcolm and Nicola were having a fight in his office, but not about politics, this was about home life.

For most of his adult life, apart from a few occasions with his mother, Malcolm has spent Christmas Day on his own. Usually with a few James Bond films and a bottle of scotch. He didn't mind the secret liaison between him and Nicola that had started in a hotel room down on the coast for another boring conference – she was a surprisingly adventurous woman in bed. But now, now she wanted him to spend Christmas Day with her and her kids.

 

“No. I fucking told you. Do ye honestly think the fuckin' press sleeps fer the whole day? How many questions would be asked if I was seen going intae your house like I belong there? And your fucking divorce lawyer would ream your arse out clean fer giving your twat of an ex any leverage against ye. No”

 

Nicola, well used by now to Malcolm's tirades and high explosive swearing, just stood in front of him with her arms crossed. Fuck, she thought, this really isn't going to happen. The realisation hit her and her shoulders slumped as the impossibility of Malcolm playing happy families sprung into her mind.

 

Still standing with his hands on the desk from where he'd been yelling; Malcolm saw her just slump with submissiveness. Fucking hell.

“Look” he said with surprising quietness. “I'm not spending Christmas with anyone right? But the kids are at their Da's the next day aren't they?” His eyes glinted with a suppressed smile.

 

Nicola walked over to him behind his desk and practically purred. “Oh yes, we'd have the whole place to ourselves.”

“Good. There's got tae be some rooms I've no' given ye a screaming fucking orgasm in yet”


	2. Jamie and Sam

 

Jamie fucking loved Christmas. Not as much as he loved New Year but any excuse to get completely and utterly shitfaced was fine by him.

 

In past years, he'd have ended up at Malcolm's place in the evening and the two of them getting pissed out of their minds, eating whatever was in the fridge and invariably having a fight over something. Waking up on Boxing Day with a stinking hangover and some new bruises was normal now.

 

This year was going to be different. Sam, the brilliant PA of Malcolm and gorgeous lover of Jamie, had organised the whole thing with her usual effortless efficiency and all he had to do was turn up. Malcolm had been surprised at first that she'd even consider spending Christmas at his place, but he warmed to the notion when she pointed out that he was, by far, the best cook she knew.

 

So it was going to be Malcolm, Sam and Jamie having dinner and some drinks. Jamie sniggered like a schoolboy when he'd read Malcolm's last response to the email trail suggesting all this:

 

To: [Sam.Cassidy@press.gov.uk](mailto:Sam.Cassidy@press.gov.uk) ; [Jamie.Macdonald@press.gov.uk](mailto:Jamie.Macdonald@press.gov.uk)

From: [Malcolm.Tucker@press.gov.uk](mailto:Malcolm.Tucker@press.gov.uk)

Re: Re: Re: Xmas idea

 

_Okay you two, before I let either of you imbeciles into my house on the 25 th I want to get some rules firmly implanted in your empty heads:_

 

_No fighting_

_No wrecking my house_

_No attempts to sing carols_

_We have to watch the Queen's speech (give us a leg up on what the press will be on about later)_

_No blocking my toilet (Jamie I KNOW that's you)_

 

_The most important rule is:_

 

_No shagging in my house._

 

_M._

 

Jamie fired off a swift response agreeing to all that, and then a second email direct to Sam that promised something entirely different. After all, if he got the boss shitfaced enough like usual; he's hardly going to notice Jamie and Sam wrecking the springs on his bed.

 

Jamie did love Christmas.


	3. Malcolm and Jamie

Christmas Day – A street in Hammersmith

 

“Dashing through the snow, get the fuck out of my way, over people we go, larfing all the way..” Jamie's solo carol concert was unceremoniously cut short by a swift slap upside the head by his partner.

“Fuck, Malc what was that fuckin' for? I was in great voice ye cunting Scrooge!”

 

“People around this neighbourhood are nice and polite and don't need a fucking pissed-up Scot singing songs he learned in the back of a bus with the entire Motherwell rugby squad and vomiting on their azaleas”

 

Malcolm was a little annoyed, he'd had plans for tonight and they hadn't included watching his lover (ever after all these years he found it strange to refer to Jamie as that) get paralytically drunk and spray-paint his neighbourhood with puke. He'd forgotten the little bastard's ability to find booze just about anywhere.

“It was supposed to be a fuckin' NICE dinner. Ye know, suits and good company, posh restaurant and you had to get us kicked out after dessert didn't ye?” Jamie had managed to offend everybody in the restaurant in under 10 seconds flat by belching, farting (simultaneously), asking “what are all ye cunts lookin' at?” when people stared in horror and then lighting up a cigarette. Malcolm had had to leave one HELL of a fucking tip to be able to ever enter that place again and even then with a promise that Jamie would never go within half a mile.

 

Jamie had staggered to Malcolm's front door and after a few attempts got the key in the lock and barrelled into the house, dumping his coat on the floor and fishing a packet of cigs out of his pocket. Malcolm just followed behind, picking up the coat and folding it neatly away and then picking up an ashtray so his partner wouldn't flick fag ash into his drink.

“Fetch us a drink ye poof” Jamie grinned around the lit cigarette in his mouth and showed a surprising amount of clarity in his speech and looks that hadn't been there a minute ago.

 

Fucking bastard.

 

“You're not really drunk are ye?” Malcolm asked, annoyed.

 

Jamie blew smoke in Malcolm's face and laughed “nope, takes way more than that, I just wanted tae get you really fucking wound up”

 

“Why do ye do this every Christmas?”

 

Jamie leant over and passed the cigarette to Malcolm who took a long drag before blowing it all over Jamie in pure revenge. “Because” the shorter man grinned “the angrier ye get the harder I get fuckin' shagged after. Nothin' like a good decent furniture-wrecking screw tae celebrate the season”

 

“You are a fucking massive gay shite, ye know”

“Upstairs?”

 

Malcolm pointed imperiously to the staircase and snarled “and if ye are not naked AND ready fer me in under 20 seconds I'm dumping ye in the shower and turning it so fuckin' cold ye bollocks will fall off”

 

Racing for the bedroom, Jamie almost giggled. Fuck was Malcolm predictable, but the sex, after all, was pretty fucking terrific....


	4. Malcolm/Jamie/Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot is a carry-on from the 'Entanglements' series of TTOI fics where Malcolm/Sam/Jamie have a OT3 relationship and Sam gets pregnant by one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter dedicated to Eflind for letting me play around in her fic universe from time to time (I love co-writing stuff!)

One thing Malcolm had never expected in a million years to be doing was spending Christmas day trying to keep an active toddler from killing herself on any available surface. Another thing he hadn’t expected would be Jamie and Sam laughing their arses off at him running round the place.

Or that he’d be a father.

The not-really-as-secret-as-it-should-be liaison between all three of them had gone on since him and Jamie actually had a fist fight over who got to ask Sam out and she’d stormed in, called them both wankers and said that they both could date her. Took a few months to get used to a poly-amorous relationship..and then even longer for him and Jamie to get over the shock of realising that they actually fancied each other as well.

And then one day Sam had called them both in floods of tears and announced that she was pregnant.

By agreement, neither Malcolm nor Jamie speculated out loud as to who’s paternal DNA the baby girl had. She was their daughter. Little Rhiannon Isobel Cassidy.

Who was, at this moment chasing Malcolm’s dog and heading straight for the table leg.

“Right you eff….eminate lady, that’s enough. I don’t want ye denting my table with your head yeah? “ he said as he finally caught her and swept her up into his arms. “Oh hush” he added as her face started to screw up in preparation for a good crying jag “leave puir Shep along fer five minutes and lets go see what your lazy other Dad and that insane mother of yours have got for ye”.

“Your turn” Malcolm dumped the little girl onto Jamie’s lap and then headed into the kitchen to make tea. Jamie, a lot better with children due to growing up in a very large catholic household and being an uncle at age 12, bounced the little one on his knee to make her laugh and then picked up one of her presents.

Sam moved over onto the sofa and snuggled up next to Jamie. “Any idea what he’s got her?” she said, looking at the gift label that proclaimed that it was from the Lord Julius Nicholson.

“Fu- I don’t know. Silver spoon like the one he was born with shoved in his gob?” Jamie got an icy glare from Sam at that. For reasons she never divulged she was fond of the gentle bald man and disliked the animosity her lovers showed toward him.

By the time little Rhiannon had finished ripping the paper off her present with her tiny stubby fingers, Malcolm had returned with three cups of tea and a load of chocolate biscuits. “Still can’t get used tae playing Happy bl-blimming Families ye know” He sat down next to Sam on the sofa and watched as the paper fell away to reveal a flat box with a note attached to it.

“To dear Little Rhiannon,

Uncle Julius regrets he cannot be with you on this fine season as he is needed abroad. Rest assured that I have got you something that you can use soon and something else to be kept for when you are older.

Be a good girl for your Mother and Fathers.

Julius”

“Ponce” muttered Jamie and helped his daughter get the lid off. All three of them looked stunned as a brilliant flash of light reflected off the contents and caused Rhiannon to scream in delight. She loved pretty shiny things.

“Fucking hell” swore Malcolm, forgetting his own rule about not swearing in front of their kid, “just how much cash has baldy GOT these days?”

Jamie piped in with “Sam, you SURE you never did the horizontal mambo with Lord Shine top?”

Sam gently pried her daughter’s present of tickets to Euro Disney out of her hands before she could rip them and held the box at angle so the flashing colours coming off the diamond necklace inside could entertain their young one.

“Not till she’s older and won’t eat the damn thing” Malcolm, ever the voice of common sense said. “Also I’m going tae kick him up the backside fer making all OUR presents look like total pish”

Much later, after Rhiannon was in bed, the diamond necklace locked in the safe (along with the juicier pieces of blackmail Malcolm still kept), and the whisky broken out, the three of them lolled around on the sofa in a pleasant haze of semi-drunkeness.

“Hey, I got an idea of somethin’ we ain’t done in a while” Jamie grinned and turned Sam so her back was against Malcolm’s chest and her feet in Jamie’s lap. “How about it ye auld fucking wreck? STILL think ye can beat me at this?”

“Game fucking ON MacDonald”

Sam sighed as her two men started the initial foreplay at opposite sides of her body. Not that she minded of course, she was quite happy to lie there while Malcolm and Jamie tried to see who could make her come first.

Malcolm won with his clever and fast fingers rolling her nipples back and forth while he spoke filthy suggestions into her ear, although Jamie still managed to bring her to a second climax afterwards with his hands buried up her skirt.

“Sex?” she enquired when she got her breath back.

“Oh yes”

“Fucking YES”

“Happy Christmas boys she said as she took their hands in hers and led them both to the bedroom…..


	5. Nicola/Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Nicola and Sam together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a pairing I've written before but one someone challenges me to do something...game on!

When Malcolm had heard that Nicola was getting divorced he just replied with “about fuckin’ time she saw sense and kicked that lying fucker out” and told Sam to seal up the file with all the stuff they had collected on James Murray.

When Malcolm heard that Sam was dating another woman, he just raised an eyebrow and asked if it was anyone he knew. Her response was evasive enough to flag warning bells off and he started gathering information.

Most of Westminster heard when Malcolm found out who it was.

“GLUMMY FUCKING MUMMY?!”

Now it was a few months on and Sam was lying in bed with Nicola curled up next to her, her head on Sam’s chest.

“Thoughts?” Nicola asked.

“Just a few, that’s the old PA trick of keeping loads of things going at the same time”

“Try being a parent”

Sam shuddered “No thank you, I’m quite happy with your kids seeing me as ‘Mummy’s girlfriend’ is all”

“So, what were you thinking?”

“Have I got a shirt clean for tomorrow, what meetings Malcolm has first thing, whether to ask you if your are up for another romp around in the bed and what we might be doing at Christmas”

Nicola laughed. Sam was about as far removed from her boss as it was possible to get. Her combination of calm demeanour, humour, elegant looks and unflappable personality had attracted Nicola even when she was still married. Finding out you are in love with the same-sex PA of a man you totally despise was not something you get over instantly, but she did and started a friendship with the younger woman, which blossomed into romance and gave Nicola the courage to get rid of her husband.

Also helped that her kids liked Sam. Even her troublesome eldest thought it was “wicked cool” that her mother had a girlfriend.

“Christmas? Well, there’s plenty of room here” Nicola patted the bed for emphasis, “but what did you usually do?”

Sam stroked a hand down Nicola’s arm and sighed happily as her lover moved closer to her. “Visiting my family in the morning and afternoon and then-” her voice trialled off and Nicola looked up.

“What?”

“I’d go over to Malcolm’s in the evening and have a couple of drinks with him. I know you hate him love, but I’m truly the only friend he has left. I’m not going to ask you to come with me, not unless you actually wanted to”

Silence ruled the room for a while as both of them thought long and hard about this. Sam about how she’d not be able to cope knowing she’d left Malcolm entirely on his own on Christmas day so she’d have to go, even if it caused Nicola to hate her. Nicola’s thoughts were whirling even faster. Could she handle going to Malcolm’s? Would he be the same vicious nasty creature he was at work? She didn’t want A Murray/Tucker fight breaking out and Sam caught in the middle…

But, she loved Sam. So she could deal with Malcolm.

“I’ll come along, get Mum to watch the kids for a while.” Nicola was swiftly pulled into a crushing hug by her lover who murmured frenetic thanks and promises to return the favour someday.

“You won’t regret it love, he’s very different outside of work and especially when he’s had a few drinks. He’s even funny”

“Promise me one thing though” Nicola raised herself up on one elbow “promise me that at some point while we are there you find time to give me a Christmas kiss”

Sam frowned. “And you mean with tongues and hands and that will really piss Malcolm off and…oh gods you are a wicked, WICKED woman!”

“And you love it. Now, I believe you mentioned something earlier about another romp in bed?”


	6. Malcolm/Julius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Julius discuss holiday period plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the great Tumblr blogger duckodeath for keeping us supplied with Peter Capaldi gifs :)

“Malcolm, darling, I do actually have to get out of bed now” Julius tried to sit up and was swiftly pulled back down.

“Nope, not fucking happening an’ don’t call me fucking ‘darling’ unless ye want me to call ye ‘snookums’ in public” Malcolm practically sneered as he rolled over and sat astride Julius.

The sort-of-fight has started when Julius woke up at his alarm clock and tried to chivvy his irate Glaswegian lover out of bed so they could go to church this Christmas day. He had not forgotten Malcolm’s rather dismissive views about any religion but hoped he could at least pretend for a few hours.

He’d tried it being a ‘Nicholson family tradition’ but Malcolm countered with the ‘Tucker family tradition of staying in and getting blind stinking drunk’

So the disagreement raged on and now he was pinned to the bed by the self-fuelled hate-monster that he loved.

Malcolm hadn’t finished. “I’m not givin’ ye a choice here, well okay I am. Ye go off tae church and let me sit around in my kecks drinking coffee OR you try tae actually physically haul me there in which case I’ll break ye fucking nose off and ram it up yuir arse.”

“Malcolm, let me up”

“No”

Julius looked at the clock – damn, only 5 minutes till the church service stated and getting there late would be so gauche.

“Okay, look, tell me what you are after so you’ll get off my chest and let me go” Julius wasn’t joking as beneath that skinny figures, Malcolm boasted an incredible amount of power and if he had you pinned down you were staying down.

“Anything I want?”

“Ye, yes, whatever you require Malcolm so now let me UP”

A truly evil laugh came from above him as Malcolm’s face creased into a cunning amusement expression.

“Got ye now baldy, never give me an inch or I’ll take the mile and all of the fucking UK motorways as well” A hand wave from Julius suggested that he just carry on and get to the point.

“See, what I want is for ye to stay in this bed with me until lunchtime and they ye can run errands or something while I cook. Actually you’ll need tae to pick up some ingredients on the way back – no issues, no forgettin’ and absolutely NO fucking welshin’ on the deal”

Julius chewed his lower lip as he considered this.

“Also, what does yuir god bloody care who does and doesn’t go to church if he’s fucking everywhere?”

“Malc—”

“No, you’re mine; come the fuck over here and lets shag

As he was pulled down into a fierce embrace and a tongue running along his lips, Julius sighed. Malcolm was by far the most annoying,rude,uncaring person that Julius had ever met but also the first one who ever stirred his loins like he did.

Church would have to wait. Maybe there would be a later service or one the next day he could catch.

Malcolm’s hands, tongue and other parts of him soon had him panting. And lets face it, this was probably going to make him shout Hallelujah just as loud as the church would.

God wouldn’t mind one day off.


	7. Malcolm/Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a very special lady for all of her work in keeping TTOI fandom supplied with artwork :)

Mycroft had unnerved John at first; that mind behind such an unassuming face and wielding enough power to even (slightly) impress Sherlock. Visions of being tailed by secret service operatives if he said one wrong word to Mycroft had plagued him for a while, at least until Sherlock told him to stop worrying and Mycroft would only kill him if he caused harm to Sherlock or turned traitor to The Crown.

Now Mycroft no longer scared John quite so much. Mycroft’s ‘partner’ though did. Also from a high position in the UK government, although retired, his live-in lover had by far the foulest mouth of anybody John had ever encountered.

Malcolm Tucker terrified John Watson.

Sherlock, naturally, just found him interesting.

…..

Mycroft left the car and entered the front door of his house, his measured steps counting exactly 10 paces before he took the keys out of his pocket. The door swung open at his touch though which meant his partner was home. His unpredictable partner who hated the holidays and hated socialising and had been told this morning that Sherlock and John would be coming over Christmas Day and yes Malcolm you WILL be there.

“Is that the fucking tippy-toed prancin’ of the biggest fucking poof in London I hear?” came a familiar Glaswegian drawl from the front room. Mycroft didn’t even pause in taking his coat off, and once he had changed his shoes for far more comfortable slippers he went to see his lover.

Malcolm was happily sprawled across the sofa and laughing fit to burst at the rolling news of Steve Fleming being arrested for producing beastialty videos.

“Ahh, so it is you. Had enough takin’ it up the arse from every fuckin’ branch of MI5 today then? Christ you’re a fuckin’ easy lay you rich poofs, bend over more often than an Olympic gymnast”

Mycroft slapped Malcolm’s feet off the sofa and sat down. “I did not notice you complaining so much about that personality trait last night when you had your fingers-”

“- oh fuck you. This is no fucking fun when you won’t bite back”

Moving closer to Malcolm, he put an arm around those skinny shoulders and patted him in mock sympathy. “I know, that’s why I do it. I notice you saw the news?”

“Saw it, taped it, got it on a fuckin’ loop – Jamie’s done a 10 hour YouTube loop if ye have that kind of spare fucking time but even I won’t watch that ugly face fer that long without puking up my fucking guts” Malcolm stopped and his brow creased as an idea shot through his brain. “Hang on, I’m retired, not fucking stupid, this was YOUR doin’?”

“And if it was?”

Malcolm moved with lightning speed and ended up sat on Mycroft’s lap, straddling his legs and looking him straight in the eye. “If, and I do fucking mean IF ye had something tae do with this then I’m going to screw you on the nearest fucking surface. Flat or otherwise.”

Smiling a secretive grin and pulling Malcolm in for a brief kiss, Mycroft leaned back and shrugged. “He was a disgusting individual and we did not need to make up any of that footage, although the methods we used to find it are not going to feature in any of the news stories. The Government is far better served without men like that being around polluting the place. Malcolm, hands out of my trousers please”

His lover sat back on his heels with a filthy grin and did not remove his hand. “Still” Malcolm fiercely smiled “it’s a fucking great Xmas gift for the men in your life who happens to be a total vindictive bastard”

“That, however, is not why I did it”

“Eh? What, ye do this for YOUR fun?”

“No” Mycroft used his best explaining-things-to-my-impossible-brother tone of voice. “I have found that you are far more amiable to suggestions after you have either had a pleasant surprise or you have recently had an orgasm”

“Totally up for the second one” Malcolm was now trying to unbutton their flies and shirt buttons practically simultaneously. After he’d got Mycroft’s shirt off and was running his tongue along his neck, Mycroft decided to let him know the truth.

“Because, my dear delightful sexual deviant who will be getting a very stiff rogering in a second if he does not calm down, you are no longer complaining about Sherlock and John visiting”

Malcolm’s hands stilled and he leaned in to face his lover – eyebrows furrowed, eyes glaring, the full Tucker bollocking face on show. “So, every time I have to do Christmas with your fucking nut job family you’ll destroy one of my enemies?”

“Maybe not every time Malcolm”

“Fuck it, good enough for me. I’m going to fuckin’ screw ye right now though ye realise?”

Mycroft could never understand why others had such a hard time with Malcolm. The man was perfectly easy to keep happy. Regular sex and the evisceration of at least one hated figure a month.

Considerably easier than Sherlock.


	8. Malcolm/You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For my brilliant Tumblr wife - fuckyespetercapaldi

The Demon Lord of Westminster. Malciavelli. Mad Dog McFuck. Oh Fuck Not Him. All the terms used to describe the Glaswegian lord of profanity otherwise known as Malcolm Tucker, Director of Communications for the PM.

Very little of his private life was known, among the people you worked with it was generally assumed that he didn’t have one. Speak up against the PM in the dead of night in a darkened server room and people honestly believed you’d still get a tap on the shoulder and then a vigorous bollocking from either the man himself or his attack dog; Jamie.

You, on the other hand, know better. Because you’ve seen it.

…

A year ago, the cliché of the departmental Christmas pissup and while you didn’t work directly for Malcolm, your friend did, so you got hauled along as the ‘date’ of Sam Cassidy – mostly to give something to keep the various oversexed males she worked with away from her. “Hiding all the bodies every time Malcolm leaps to my defence is tiring and besides, the basement is getting full”

You’re never been sure of when Sam is joking.

You knew who Malcolm was, you couldn’t work in a governmental department and NOT know. Various women actually sighed over him and you’d thought they were nuts until he came up as a topic of conversation on one of the wine-and-curry evenings you and Sam enjoyed.

She knew a different side to him. The side that always leapt to her defence, paid for taxis home for her if she was working late, had even (and out of sight) given her a hug when her Nan died and then ordered her the train tickets and told her to travel to her family right there and then.

“He’s a scary bastard if you cross him” she explained. “But for the few he cares about you couldn’t honestly find any better person to have at your side”.

After that evening you found yourself hoping for glimpses of the fearsome man around the offices and when you did see him (bollocking your director) you were amazed you hadn’t seen it sooner.

Grey/green eyes, silver hair, lean figure, long fingers, a handsome man in fact. And when you’d mentioned that to Sam later she’d given you a one-armed hug and said “finally it’s nice to have someone else who thinks that”.

So, that was also why she’d dragged you along to the do. As she’d put it - “you think he’s sexy now, you wait till you see the tux”. You’d had a few drinks, stopped Ollie Reeder from perving all over Sam by the threat of your shoes in his bollocks and was just about to start on your next drink when a voice came from just behind your ear-

“- I have tae admire a lass that can hurl threats like that, also one with the good taste tae date my Sam. Fancy a drink pet?”. You’d spun round and oh gods, she’d been right. Malcolm Tucker in formal wear, smiling, and about 2 inches from you was more than you’d ever hoped. The man was stunning. Luckily he didn’t notice your sudden quiet, or your heart racing, and carried on talking.

“Yeah, my fucking luck again eh? Meet a woman who can impress me with tearin’ twats like Reeder a new arsehole and she’s datin’ my PA. Still, I’ll get ye a drink fer thanks since you’ve saved me the job of making the little prick wet himself, what ye having?”

“Scotch” you stammered slightly and held up the glass of Glennfiddich you’d got earlier.

“Fucking hell, she drinks whisky too…okay pet, back in a sec” Malcolm strode off the bar (scaring other people out of the way with thousand-watt glares) and Sam came over and wrapped a steadying arm round your waist.

“Told you” she grinned. “He’s not so bad”

You moaned in frustration, “yeah, he’s getting me a drink”.

“Brilliant! Get him over to the mistletoe later, I want a report on how well he uses that mouth for something other than profanity”

“Sam!”

“What?”

You spoke through gritted teeth as you reminded her that she’d given him the impression that she was dating you and as such you were ‘off the market’. With a devious grin your friend moved off toward her boss and you put your head in your hands. Cheers Sam.

A thousand different scenarios for how you could make a dignified exit from this farce were circling round your head when your train of thought was stopped by a hand reaching into your vision holding a glass of amber liquid.

“Normally when I offer someone a drink, they run in fuckin’ terror or accuse me of poisoning it. Depressed sighs is a new one. Look, Sam explained it yeah? Clever girl that one but fuck does she still need tae learn a few things” Taking the glass from him you knocked the whole lot back and sat quietly looking at him for a while before speaking.

“Explained what?”

Malcolm’s eyes creased when he smiled and extended out his hand to you. “That you’re not hers, you’re no’ seeing anyone at the moment and that you’ve been watchin’ me fer weeks”

“I’m going to fucking kill her” you groaned. “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have said that, I’m just going to leave and not bother you again, I’m sorry sir”

The bony hand gripped your wrist and you stopped. “Lass, I never said I was pissed off. Do ye know how many young, stunnin’ women are interested in me? Jesus fuck love, I turned 50 a few months ago”

“So?” you shrugged, the warm glow of the whisky starting to have an effect, “you are quite a silver fox”.

“Hmm, really? Tell ye what pet, fancy a wee walk round outside away from all these fuckwits? Promise I’d never do anythin’ that would get us in the fuckin’ papers”.

…

So that was the night that, still not believing it wasn’t a dream, you’d ended up walking around the grounds of the country house that the party was at, talking about films, Doctor Who episodes (Malcolm loved the scary angels ones) and just general talk until he judged you both well out of sight and asked, actually asked! If he could kiss you.

Your first kiss started slow and hesitant, but once you hooked your leg over his and your arm round his neck it became anything but. Murmuring appreciation at your passion he pulled you against him tightly and ran one hand up your side, your arms, and then stroked your neck as you continued delving into each other’s mouths.

When he broke away from kissing you, Malcolm started running his mouth down your neck, softly biting at the flesh there as you tried to keep your moans of delight quiet. The man definitely knew what he was doing.

Your confidence increased and you straddled him on the bench you were sat on and drew his face in for another passionate kiss. From this angle you could feel a growing hardness in his trousers and as the thought ‘I’m on top of Malcolm Tucker and he’s fucking hard for me!’ spun through your mind you couldn’t stop the load moan that came from your throat or your hips from starting to grind down onto him.

He broke away first, breathing every bit as hard as you were. “Fucking hell, do ye know how long it’s been since…oh fuck I don’t care.” His eyes went serious for a second and he held you by the waist with his thumbs gently moving against your skin. “Love, I really really want tae take ye home now and take this fuckin’ stunning outfit off ye and then spend the rest of the next seein’ how many times I could get ye tae scream my name”

“So why aren’t we doing that?” your heart sank. Damn.

“Politics my dear, that whole art of power. I can’t leave before the PM does yeah? If ye want to, and if ye can hang around that long, then….well I’d be fucking honoured tae have my tongue run over every inch of ye. But, only if ye want to – I’ve never gone where I’m not allowed okay?”

…..

That was a year ago and yes you had spent a great night totally naked and with the equally naked Malcolm alternating between kissing you and worshipping your body with his tongue until you couldn’t take any more and practically begged him to just screw you silly.

With a smile, he’d complied. Unlike any other lover you’d had. Malcolm, it seems, wasn’t satisfied unless you’d reached climax at least twice before he let himself go and shuddered to completion inside you.

Christmas morning this year, despite his hatred of ‘commercialised fucking shite’ you’d got him a simple Paul Smith scarf and he was repaying the present by ducking under the covers with the full intention of spending half the morning between your thighs.

Happy Christmas Malcolm.


End file.
